something about us
by splitting colors
Summary: Maybe in another universe, he could have loved her. Maybe he would have tried.


_I know I'm a little late to the fandom (try five years), but I was watching it on TV one day while a friend of mine was telling me about a problem she had with these two guys, and I asked if I could turn it into a story. So here it is: a university AU in which no one but Caitlyn, Shane, and Mitchie know each other._

_._

_But there's something about us, I want to say_

_._

The first time it happens is on a Saturday night underneath the fluorescent lights of the campus library.

She's surrounded by stacks of textbooks, the subtle way she clenches her fingers around her pen is the only indication of her inner turmoil.

She rubs her eyes tiredly, the words have started to blur together and the silence is overpowering in its heaviness.

More than anything, she just wants her music.

With a sigh, she tilts back in her chair and turns the page of the heavy volume in front of her.

_The Multiverse Theory explores the possibility of a multiverse, a collection of all parallel universes to exist. When a decision is made, the universe splits into a new one, which plays out the consequences of such a choice. While science has not yet proven this, some philosophers believe that there is more than one version of ourselves in the multiverse, each living a different life based on the consequences of our actions. _

She stops reading and lets the meaning of the passage sink in. For a minute, she's immersed in the glitzy lights, the clinking of champagne glasses, and the possibility that somewhere out there, she's already made it.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She's jarred out of her daydream by a voice, frustratingly melodic even when its dripping with sarcasm.

"What do you want, Gray?" she grits out.

"What's with the openly hostile behavior?" He slinks gracefully into the seat across from her. "I come bearing gifts."

He pushes the styrofoam cup of coffee towards her, the steam still emanating from the cover, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"Bullshit."

"Okay, fine. Maybe I got it for myself, but God knows you need it more than I do."

He has her there. She picks up the cup and takes a sip. Instantly her face scrunches up in distaste.

"Black, really? Ever heard of a little something called sugar?"

He grins his infamous crooked smile, and a little flash of warmth rolls through her, as briefly as if though she had just imagined it.

"I'm not exactly the sweet type."

"Well, look at you being all self aware."

Ignoring her jab, he examines the mess right in front of him. He picks up one of the books on the table and flips through it quickly. "What are you doing studying physics on a Saturday night? I'd have thought you'd have something better to do."

"Better than hanging around with your ex-girlfriend's best friend, you mean?"

"Mitchie and I dated in freshman year. You think you can let go of whatever grudge you have against me yet?"

"I don't know." She gives him a sickly sweet smile. "Maybe I would if I knew why it ended in the first place."

"Mitchie never told you?" His eyebrows furrow together and she thinks that this genuine display of emotion suits him.

"Nope. She just told me it didn't work out, and then I spent the rest of the night watching her shove ice cream in her mouth."

This time he doesn't answer right away and she starts to fidget as the silence stretches on between them. She wonders if she had pushed him too far.

"I never deserved her." His voice is rough with an emotion she can't quite describe, but is sincere all the same. She finds herself looking right at him for the first time.

There's an expression in his eyes she can't quite place. Something like nostalgia and regret, but there's also something that cuts even deeper than that.

She's always known he's not just the shallow campus heartthrob he pretends to be, but she's never had any other reason to believe, to see.

"She was too good for me." He shrugs, the familiar indifference creeping back into place now. "I just wasn't the person she wanted me to be."

She nods. She never thought she'd be able to sympathize with Shane Gray, but she gets it. She really does. Sometimes it's hard constantly being around Mitchie and feeling like you don't measure up to what she wants you to be. Even if the judgment isn't there, you still feel the inadequacy.

It's the general feeling of never being good enough as yourself.

"I'm tired," she blurts out.

He stares at her blankly in response. "Cool, I'll walk you back to your room."

She shakes her head, her thoughts whirring around so quickly she feels almost disoriented. She's finally realized why she's been feeling so claustrophobic, a feeling that had been following her around even before she set foot in the library.

She finally gets it and she wants to hold onto it as much as she can before the realization slips away and she's left feeling confused all over again.

"No, I mean, I'm tired of trying to live up to everyone's expectations." She gestures at the textbooks almost frantically. "I'm not sure I even want to be _in_ school. I love music more than anything. I mean, shouldn't that be enough? Shouldn't that_—_"

"Shouldn't that count more than a diploma," he finishes quietly.

There's something electric in the air that surrounds them. Something so tangible she wants to reach out and grab it, hold onto this moment so she'll remember it tomorrow.

"I just want to be part of something other than myself," she says finally.

This time when he offers to take her back to her dorm, she doesn't refuse.

.

The walk back to her room is silent. She can feel the warmth radiating off his skin, and she tries to hide the fact that she's shivering in the cool night air.

When they get there, she opens her door and lets him follow her inside.

She walks to the edge of her bed and turns around. "Look, I_—_" She takes a deep breath and starts again. "I just think_—_"

"I know," he says.

He takes a step towards her, and they're suddenly much too close. She can see nothing but darkness in his eyes.

"I know, okay?" She nods again because he does, he really does.

She closes her eyes and the two of them fall onto her sheets.

The last thing she remembers thinking is maybe in another universe, she would have known better.

.

She wakes up slowly, the world shifts info focus in front of her, and it takes a minute to remember why she's wearing nothing but a sheet.

There's a bright pink post-it on the pillow beside her, his handwriting surprisingly neater than she expected it to be.

_That was fun. Let's do it again._

She manages to catch herself before she starts to smile.

.

Mitchie's got a crush on her new Biology TA. Apparently he's the world's greatest bird enthusiast, which explains why her best friend dragged her out onto the quad so they could watch the sky.

"I don't see why we have to be out here," she grumbles, her eyes scanning the hoard of students in front of her. "Isn't it illegal to date one of your students?"

"Don't be silly," Mitchie replies, focusing a little more on applying lip gloss than looking out for birds, "he's a teacher's _assistant_. There's nothing in the handbook about that."

Knowing Mitchie, she's probably checked. Trust her to not to dive headfirst into anything without making sure of the consequences.

She's always been the more rational one between the two of them.

"I just don't think it's right sleeping with someone who grades your papers," she mutters to herself.

Silence falls between them, and she uses the temporary break in the conversation to gear herself up to asking the one thing that's been on her mind all day.

"Mitch, why did you break up with Shane?"

Mitchie finally looks up at her, an expression of surprise and cautious curiosity etched on her face. She slowly lowers the tube of lip gloss and faces her.

"Why do you ask that?" Mitchie begins carefully.

"I don't know." She tries to act as indifferent as she can. "I just thought about it and you never gave me an answer."

"I didn't even know you cared about Shane," Mitchie replies, and she looks almost suspicious. "You didn't seem to think much of him when we were dating."

She hadn't thought much of him because there was nothing to think of. She'd merely been the girlfriend's best friend, and he had never so much as sent a glance her way.

Until recently.

"I don't, really." Lie. "I'm just curious, that's all."

Mitchie looks thoughtful, as if she's only just putting the pieces together. "We just wanted different things," she replies eventually. "He's not exactly the romantic type, and I wanted a serious boyfriend. He couldn't commit to that so it fell apart."

"You're over him, though?"

Mitchie snorts. "God, yes. We were too different, it wouldn't have worked out in the long run. I'm just glad I came to my senses before it was too late."

Maybe in another universe, Shane and Mitchie would still be together. They'd be sitting out here like they used to, smiling at each other like they were trapped in their own private world.

But after hearing everything, she wonders how much of the real Shane she had seen back then.

The fall was inevitable. Maybe in another universe, it would have just lasted a little longer.

.

She's sitting beside the window, letting the sunlight wash over her. Her chin rests on her fist, and she surveys the outside world lost in her musing.

"Hey, Caitlyn?"

A familiar voice jolts her out of her thoughts, and she turns around to find herself looking into an equally familiar pair of chocolate brown eyes.

"Nate." She grins at her former classmate. "Don't tell me, you're in this Music Theory class, too?"

"Yup." He slides into the seat next to her. "Figures they'd put us future music producers together."

"Don't underestimate yourself, man." She's elated by the good weather and smiles at him brightly. "You know you could make it into the business if you wanted to. Your voice is great."

No need to mention that the only reason she knows this is because she walked in on him singing Celine Dion last semester.

Nate turns about three different shades of red and she can't help but giggle at his obvious embarrassment.

"Thanks," he says, clearing his throat. "I think this is gonna be an interesting semester."

Instantly, her mind is filled with the scent of coffee and the harshness of fluorescent lights. The feel of her sheets pressed against her back and a boy with dark eyes and a musical voice that inexplicably pulls her to him.

"Yeah, I think so, too."

.

She doesn't know what she's doing here.

Maybe in another universe, this thing ended before it could ever begin. Maybe there she's smart and sensible, and stays away from the things she knows aren't hers.

But right now, she walks to his room with purpose. When she gets there, she enters without knocking.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?"

"Your RA must hate you," she replies, surveying the scene in front of her. Shane's propped up in his bed, smoking a cigarette. The window behind him is open, but not enough so that the smell doesn't cling to everything.

"Yeah, she's not my biggest fan," he answers back, looking almost sullen.

She makes her way to the desk chair across from his bed, trying to take in everything around her as she does.

She cautiously examines the music sheets stacked haphazardly on his desk, the guitars in the corner, the band posters on the wall.

She wants to absorb every bit of him that's seeped into the room. She thinks maybe she'll understand him more.

"Caitlyn?"

_Please don't ever stop saying my name._ "Yeah?"

"Get over here."

Maybe in another universe, they would mean something. But right now she'll settle for this.

.

She's sitting at her (_their)_ library table one Saturday night. The introductory class sessions have ended, and she's finding out that learning about music is a lot harder than she thought.

She feels restless tonight. The untapped energy that courses through her body leaves her with an urge to do something, and no matter how many times she moves her feet or stretches her arms, it's still there.

She knows what would make it go away.

That thought is discarded before she can fully complete it, and she doesn't notice when someone sits on (_his_) the chair in front of her.

"Hey, Caitlyn."

"Hey," she responds absently, then looks up properly. "Oh. Hey, Nate. What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way back from class when I saw you in here. Looks like you've been studying hard," he notes, staring at the papers strewn around her.

She hadn't been studying, not really. Her mind had been in a room where the smell of cigarettes permeated everything and she discovered for the first time the feeling of falling asleep next to someone.

"Anyway," Nate continues, holding up a white paper bag, "I wasn't sure if you had eaten or not so I stopped by In-N-Out and got you this."

He slides the bag towards her, and she's suddenly aware of how hungry she is.

"Thanks, Nate." There is something so comforting about saying his name. "I owe you one. Remind me the next time I see you slaving away at a paper."

He laughs. "Noted." She notices the dimples that stand out when he does. "Oh, before I forget." He pushes something else towards her. "I got you coffee, too."

She's struck by the similarity of the styrofoam cup, the steam emanating from the cover. This time, though, he puts sugar in.

.

She's not in love with him.

She's not the type, she never has been. She figured she wasn't meant for an epic love story when she failed to see the romance in those big gestures all the other girls swooned over, only focusing on how cliché it all was.

Sometimes though, she comes pretty close.

They're sitting side by side on his bed one night. Their backs are pressed against the wall, eyes looking straight ahead. She realizes that his walls have slowly started to become as familiar to her as her own.

They're idly playing some kind of question and answer game, passing a bottle of whiskey back and forth.

The alcohol makes everything seem dull and hazy, and she closes her eyes languidly as she thinks of something to ask.

"Favorite band?"

"I couldn't answer you even if I wanted to." She hums in agreement; she's never been good at playing favorites.

"I think I'd like to be in my own band, though," Shane continues. His eyes are focused on something far away, something she's sure goes beyond the four walls of his dorm room.

He's letting her take a look into his mind, letting her hear things and see things that no one ever would.

It's the moments like this, so pure in their innocence, that she lives for.

It's something not quite like love, but the closest to it she'll ever get.

"I could produce your music." The words come out slowly, like she's still learning to speak.

"That wouldn't work out," he says, his voice equally as drowsy, "you aren't supposed to sleep with your producers."

With a sudden burst of energy, the two of them fall into laughter. The alcohol only adding to the warmness she gets from sharing something with him, and she feels like she's floating away into the sun.

She wants to remember the brightness of this moment forever.

"Favorite Beatle?" She's pulled back down to earth by the sound of his voice, and it takes a moment to remember that it's her turn to answer.

"George," she says without hesitation. "I always did love 'Something'."

He starts humming the song under his breath, and she closes her eyes and lets the melody overwhelm her.

_You're asking me, will my love grow?_

When she opens her eyes again, he's looking right at her. She holds his gaze as best she can.

_I don't know, I don't know. _

.

"Ugh," she says, head falling onto the book open in front of her with a _thud_. "I can't study anymore, I just can't."

Beside her, Nate laughs. "Suck it up, Gellar. We've got a lot of work to do if we plan on finishing this project."

Nate was definitely the best part about taking Music Theory. While the class was interesting enough, it had come with a share of projects that she wouldn't have finished without his calm words and guidance.

"You go on without me." Her voice is muffled by the pages of the book. "Just leave me here."

She can't see him, but she's familiar enough with him to know he's rolling his eyes at her pretend dramatics. "Let's just finish this last part then we can take a break."

With great effort, she pulls her head off the table. "We're getting ice cream," she says decisively. "No arguments."

"Whatever you say." She likes the sound of his laugh. It isn't as lovely as Shane's, but it's nice and she likes how easy it is to draw out of him.

She sighs wearily and starts sifting through the pages again. "Did I ever mention that you're my favorite project partner?"

"Thanks, Caitlyn," he says, not meeting her eyes. "You're my favorite, too."

.

Mitchie looks uncharacteristically serious when she joins her during their shared break.

"So, about Nate." Her best friend's voice is as grave as she looks.

She's so surprised, she nearly chokes on her soda. In between coughs and splutters, she asks, "What about him?"

"Nothing." There's a gleam in Mitchie's eyes that she doesn't like the look of. "I just noticed you two seem to be spending a lot of time together."

"He's in my Theory class," she says, not allowing herself to see where this is going. "We're partners for this project? I'm pretty sure I told you about this."

"Oh, come on, Caity!" Mitchie bursts out impatiently. She flinches at the use of that ridiculous nickname. "You haven't been on a date in ages, and Nate's a great guy."

She sighs. "I know he's a great guy, Mitch. I just don't see him in that way."

"There's someone else, isn't there?" Sometimes she regrets that her best friend knows her so well. "Do I know him?"

In a comical display from the universe, Shane chooses that moment to come into her view. He's standing behind Mitchie, smoking a cigarette, regarding her impassively. When she gives him a tentative smile, he turns away.

She feels something inside her sink to the ground and tries to ignore the way her heart beats in her ears.

"Sort of."

She's not sure which one of Mitchie's questions she's answering.

.

Once again, she finds herself standing at the end of his hallway.

She feels apprehensive tonight. It's as though the different, more sensible versions of herself have finally caught up with her.

Before she can go any further, she sees someone walking down the hall.

It's Tess Tyler, looking impeccable as always.

It's only when Tess passes by her, that she notices the differences.

Tess doesn't sneer or make a scathing comment at her choice of clothes. Her mascara is slightly smeared at the edges and only one of her eyelashes is curled.

She's also wearing her dress inside out.

It dawns on her with sudden clarity that Tess had come from his room. She feels as if ice water has been injected into her veins, and the emotion hits her so swiftly she feels winded.

It's something like jealousy with a little less anger and a little more sadness.

On the way back to her room, she swears she hears a voice at the back of her head saying, _I told you so._

.

She doesn't know how long she's been banging on his door. The sound echoes off the wood and bounces around the empty halls. It could have been minutes, hours, even days.

Time passes by in a slow haze that she doesn't want to break out of.

After what feels like eternity, the wood disappears from beneath her sore knuckles, and instead it's his face that she sees.

It's been more than a week since she's seen him, and in her state, she takes in everything slowly. The scowl on his face, his jaw set. His eyes seem darker than usual, and when he finally speaks, the acidity in his voice would melt steel.

"Caitlyn, what the fuck are you doing out here?"

"I love it when you say my name." Like everything else, the words come out slow and slurred. She enunciates each word carefully, afraid the meaning will get lost somehow.

"Jesus, are you drunk?" She's not sure if she's merely imagining it, but he looks almost concerned.

She nods vaguely. "I believe so." At least, she thinks she is. That tends to happen when you drink too much vodka.

At the back of her mind, she knows this isn't where she's supposed to be. She should have asked Mitchie to walk back with her, but her best friend loves frat parties and it didn't seem right to take her away from all the fun.

He's pulling her by the arm into his room now, and she stumbles after him like a child.

"What is wrong with you?" She's seated on the bed, following his movements with her eyes; his frantic gestures so different from the classic Shane Gray walk, casual and unhurried.

A glass of water seemingly materializes out of thin air, and she holds onto it vacantly, letting the condensation pool beneath her fingertips.

"I saw you with her." It comes out less accusing and more petulant than she intended. "So really, what is wrong with you?"

Before he can reply, sudden exhaustion rolls through her and she feels herself sinking into his mattress. Before she's swallowed into oblivion, she takes one last look at him.

The last thing she remembers seeing is a look of anguish on his stupidly handsome face.

Maybe in another universe, that look would have still been there when she woke up.

.

She wakes up to a familiar ceiling that is not her own.

The sunlight comes in from the right instead of the left, and she can't recall ever hanging up a Rolling Stones poster.

Then the headache kicks in and she just wants to bury herself in his scent forever.

She wraps the sheets tightly around herself and prepares to close her eyes once more when it hits her.

She wasn't under his blankets when she passed out.

With a sudden lurch, she sits bolt upright. The movement makes her head spin even more, and she squeezes her eyes shut until the world rights itself.

"Good, you're awake. There's water and aspirin on the bedside table."

He's sitting at his desk, eyes on a book. His voice is careful and blank, and he doesn't look at her while she reaches around blindly for the pill.

When she's managed to untangle herself from his sheets, she sits facing him and rubs her eyes.

"Shane_—_"

His eyes finally meet hers, and there's something about the look in them that she remembers vaguely.

"If you're feeling better, I think you should head back to your room."

He's kicking her out. She can feel him withdrawing into his indifference and aloofness; the quiet sort of vulnerability that she had been seeing these past few weeks has vanished.

"Well, thanks for everything." She can't quite keep the sarcasm out of her voice, even hungover and slightly embarrassed. "Sorry to be such a bother."

She's almost at the door when she hears him call her name.

"Tess didn't mean anything." She freezes in place but doesn't turn around. "But what we have isn't exclusive. I'd hate for you to get that idea."

The headache disappears in favor of a new kind of hurt. Except this time she doesn't know where it's coming from.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she says stiffly.

She hears him call her name again, but this time she shuts the door before he gets a chance to say anything.

.

Jason has apparently asked Mitchie out, and her friend's smile is somehow even brighter than normal.

She doesn't want to ruin Mitchie's mood with her own, but the grin she plasters on her face feels a shade darker than usual.

"Mitch, why Jason, anyway?" Not that she had much of a problem with him. She had met him a few days ago, and he was arguably the loveliest person she had ever encountered in exception to her best friend.

With that said, the bird obsession is still a little weird.

Mitchie shrugs blithely, too immersed in her personal happiness to think properly. "I walked into Biology on the first day of school and he was there, all smiles and enthusiasm, and it just happened. Sometimes you can't help who you fall for, you know?"

There's a sudden onset of emotions clogging her throat and she attempts to swallow it down.

Yeah, she knows.

.

There's a knock on her door one night, but she doesn't notice.

It's been a week since she's seen Shane, and it's stupid, but she can't help but feel empty when he's not around. When she lies on her bed at night, she likes to pretend she can grab onto his scent and let it engulf her.

But if there's something that has always been able to take her mind off things, it's her two passions: music and dance.

She had given up dancing some time ago in order to pursue music, but sometimes when she's alone, she likes to play her music on shuffle and dance to whatever comes on.

Tonight it's some retro disco song, and she blasts it with the volume all the way up until she can feel it vibrate beneath her skin. She dances to the beat, and she imagines being able to do this for a living.

When the music finally stops, she hears the faint sound of clapping.

At first she chalks it up to her imagination, but when it doesn't stop, she turns around and sees Shane standing in the open doorway.

"Nice." His eyebrow is raised in appreciation, and she flushes with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

"Ever heard of knocking?"

"I did knock, actually. And like you've ever spared me the same courtesy when you come barging into my room."

He has a point there. She waves him into the room and he walks inside, plastic bags dangling from his wrists.

"Is that food?" she asks, eyeing them speculatively.

"The finest gourmet cuisine that Chinese takeout place down the road has to offer." His voice is mockingly serious.

"Well then," she says, mimicking his tone, "lay it out." She makes a sweeping gesture to her desk.

They eat in relative silence, the lyrics and harmonies of the music coming from her speakers filling in the gaps in conversation.

Sometimes she'll look at him and catch his eye, but he'll turn away before she can say anything. Other times he'll ask her about something inconsequential, but when she turns the tables back on him, all she gets is a shrug in reply.

This goes on for an hour, and by the time she gets up to clear away the containers, she's tired and frustrated by his coolness.

"I'm not sleeping with you." Her voice is cold, and she tries to keep her expression neutral when she turns towards him. "So if you were expecting to get some action, I suggest you give Tess a call."

Genuine surprise and uncertainty flickers over his features for a second, before it's replaced with his usual indifferent mask. "Maybe I'll do that."

"Alright. See you," she says, beginning to turn away from him.

"What is your problem?" She jumps at the obvious anger in his voice, but she forces her expression to stay composed. "We were having a great time, and you_—_"

"A great time?" she echoes, hoping she doesn't sound as hysterical as she feels. "You know, this whole hot and cold act you have going on may work on some people, but I'm getting pretty fucking sick of being rebuffed every time I try and talk to you."

"Is that what this is about?" He starts to laugh. "Oh my God, you're yelling at me because we aren't _communicating_." She flinches at the sarcasm in his tone. "Is that it? News flash, I'm not your fucking boyfriend, I don't have to do anything."

"Then stop fucking acting like this!" Something explodes inside her, and she feels all the pent up emotions come rushing out. "Stop bringing me food and spending the night, only to have you ignore me the next day because you can't handle being attached to someone in any way! You have the guts to look at me like I'm the only person you see, but then you sleep with Tess and tell me not to expect anything from you? Stop messing with my mind because it's not fucking fair. Just_—_just stop."

The anger drains out of her as suddenly as it had appeared, and the two of them stand in the middle of her room, eyes locked and breathing labored.

He breaks the silence first. "I think I should go."

She nods and looks away from him. As he's about to walk to her door, he pauses and grabs her arm.

"I'd just break your heart." The words, so quietly uttered, carry with it the deepest level of sincerity she's ever heard from him. It's the only thing he can promise her.

"Nobody breaks my heart," she says, trying to ignore the way her chin is quivering. "And anyway, why would I want that?"

She watches him walk out without another word. Maybe in another universe, he would have been lying.

Maybe in another universe, she wouldn't be in love with him.

.

It's three in the morning when she's woken up by someone banging on her door.

She staggers out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights. She soon regrets this decision after she stubs her toe and narrowly avoids being impaled by the edge of her desk.

When she finally reaches the door and yanks it open, the sudden brightness from the hallway lights overwhelm her, and she rubs her eyes furiously trying to get them to work.

Because there's no way Shane Gray is leaning against her doorframe looking like a man who hasn't slept in years.

"I'm sorry." His voice is so quiet, she's not sure if she imagined it. When he looks up at her, there's an uncertainty in his expression that she wouldn't have thought possible. Not coming from him.

She wonders if he really means it.

"Took you long enough."

The past few weeks without him had been, not exactly lonely, but something like it. She couldn't help but feel as if there was a little part of her that had been missing.

She turns around and he follows her into the darkness.

.

She wakes up alone the next morning.

He doesn't leave a note.

.

"So, Caitlyn."

"Yes, Nathaniel?" She grins at the formality in his tone, even though it causes an uncomfortable twinge within her. Nevertheless, she's grateful for the distraction from her own mind his presence brings.

"Um, I was actually wondering…" His face is a mask of pure apprehension and anxiety.

She can see where this is going. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to go out with me? I know we spend a lot of time together, but I was hoping it could be an actual date this time?" The words come together in a garbled rush, and it takes her a while to comprehend anything.

In the ensuing silence, she watches the expression on his face fall at what he thinks is a rejection, and it sparks something in her. It must be different to be with someone who isn't afraid to show you exactly how he feels.

Anyway, she did like Nate. Even if it wasn't the way he wanted her to.

"I'd love to go out with you."

The smile he gives her makes up for the way she can feel something inside her breaking.

.

"Nate asked me out."

She doesn't even give him a chance to speak when he opens his door and finds her pacing outside.

For a fraction of a second, she swears he looks happy to see her. But once her words sink in, it's like something inside him hardens. "And I care, because?"

Her resolve falters when she hears the barely concealed anger in his voice. "I just wanted to let you know."

"Do whatever you want, Caitlyn," he sneers, and she hates the way he can make her name sound like the most beautiful and ugliest thing in the world. "It's not like it means anything to me."

"Right," she says, voice trembling with emotion. "How silly of me to forget that the enigmatic Shane Gray doesn't give a shit about anyone else."

"I don't know what you're talking about, because that would imply that I feel anything for you in the first place."

That stings her more than she's willing to admit. She's not a crier in the slightest, but she feels like something inside her has dissolved.

"See you around," she replies, voice frosty and eyes sparkling with tears.

She's halfway down the hall before she hears his door slam shut.

.

When she gets back to her room, there's a light on her answering machine.

It seems as if Mitchie and Jason have had their first kiss.

She's never kissed Shane.

The impact of this realization makes her head spin, and she closes her eyes to try and quell the ringing in her eyes.

In all the nights they had shared together, he never once kissed her.

It seemed almost impossible that the two of them could have gone so long without at least brushing lips, but he had always been so careful to avoid it.

It was a conscious act on his part.

All the same, she can't believe she never noticed.

.

On Saturday night, instead of sitting in the library surrounded by textbooks, she finds herself sitting in a relatively fancy restaurant outside of campus.

Instead of a boy with dark eyes pushing a cup of black coffee towards her, it's a boy with curly hair and a warm smile that sits across from her and offers her a menu.

They eat while engaging in constant conversation. Sometimes she'll look at him and catch his eye, and he'll smile at her over the candlelight. Other times he'll ask her about something inconsequential, and when she turns the tables back on him, he'll reply in detail.

She's surprised at how freely he shares things with her, telling her about the summer camp he was sent to as a kid and his family back home.

What's even more amazing is how much he cares for what she has to say. He listens patiently to her rant about taking a science subject when she's a music major for fuck's sake, and even laughs when she tells him about the girl from her hall who ran naked through campus in protest of the dining hall food.

It's a perfectly nice evening that stops being so nice when he suddenly brings up the one person she's doing her best to avoid thinking about.

"What?" She hopes she didn't hear what she thinks she did.

"Oh, uh." He looks surprised at the hostility in her expression. "I was just saying, I didn't know you and Shane were friends? I know he used to date Mitchie, but I didn't think you guys were close."

"We're not," she says, carefully trying her best not to panic. How much had he told him? "Why do you ask?"

"Well, because the other day he asked me about you."

That stops her thoughts in their tracks. "Wait, what?"

"Yeah." Nate watches her, confused by her reaction. "After Theory, he stopped me in the hallway and asked how long we'd known each other. If I didn't know any better, it was almost like he was jealous."

She wants to believe so badly that he was. But she remembers his sneer, the indifference, and _I'd just break your heart_ thrums through her.

"Don't worry about it," she says eventually. "I'm sure it didn't mean anything."

.

They continue talking as he walks her back to her dorm, and he offers her his jacket when he notices her shivering.

Standing in front of her door, he leans in and kisses her, and she's struck by the security she feels at his touch.

She closes her eyes and wishes it could be someone else.

She watches Nate round the corner, then she closes her door and heads in the opposite direction.

She has some unfinished business to deal with.

.

Once again, she finds herself at the end of his hallway. But this time, she walks to his door without thinking and lets herself in.

He's sitting propped up in his bed, smoking a cigarette. The window behind him is open, but not enough so that the smell doesn't cling to everything. Seeing him in front of her like this, she's struck by the weirdest sense of déjà vu.

He looks surprised to see her, but she interrupts him before he can say anything.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hisses.

"We're back to the blame game again, are we?" he replies sarcastically. "By all means, please let me know what I did wrong."

"What did you have to ask Nate about me for? Last time I checked, you couldn't give less of a shit what I did, remember?"

His eyes flash with something almost like guilt. "He told you about that?"

"Of course he did." He flicks his cigarette out the window and stands up so that they're face to face. "Because unlike you," she says, jabbing a finger at his chest in anger, "Nate is actually a nice guy."

"Don't," he seethes, "touch me."

"Why?" She laughs shrilly. "Afraid you're going to catch my feelings for you? Don't fucking worry about that, _Shane._" She practically screeches his name. "I know you're allergic to any hint of emotion whatsoever, so excuse_—_"

He grabs the front of her shirt and crashes their lips together. It's the complete opposite of sweet and gentle, but behind her eyelids, she sees a billion tons of light exploding from every crevice in the universe.

She's amazed by the sheer brightness of it, the strength of this inexplicable emotion that courses through her veins.

It's a spark that sends electricity running through her; it's fireworks exploding in the night sky, colors so bright she's blinded by the beauty of such a feeling.

It's such an irony that the darkest boy gives off the brightest light.

It's a kiss that reminds her of everything she's ever wanted.

And when he pulls away, it's kiss that reminds her of everything she'll never have.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispers, and she wishes so badly that she could take it back. That they could continue on as they are, and she'd be okay with that.

But if there's anything she's learned recently, it's that you can only pretend for so long.

He's never going to completely commit to her, and try as she might, it isn't something she can handle anymore.

"You're right," he says, and for the first time, he lets her hear the trembling in his voice. "It's too complicated."

She nods. "It was inevitable."

When she looks into his eyes for the last time, she sees the lightness in them. She realizes now why he'd never kissed her. A kiss is such an intimate thing to be shared between two people. Sometimes, it spoke more than words ever could.

And he was afraid of her finding out what he wanted to say.

She walks to his door as slowly as she can. He doesn't stop her.

.

She'd always found the notion of heartbreak so ridiculously cliché.

She'd never been able to fully sympathize with the way Mitchie would scarf down junk food and weep into her cocktails, all the while muttering about how she was the best damn thing to ever happen to him.

But walking back to her room, the remnants of fireworks still glowing beneath her eyelids, she thinks this is maybe the closest to it she'll ever get.

.

Some time later, she's dating Nate.

Their shared class has ended, but they still study together late into the night. He brings her coffee the way she likes it every time, and when she gets too stressed out, he'll add ice cream to the mix.

He listens to her problems and she listens to his. They figure out how to best solve them together.

They go out on dates, and he holds her hand and kisses her good night. When she's cold, he offers her his jacket. He always makes sure to knock before entering her room.

Mitchie loves him and he gets along great with Jason.

It's perfect.

She's just not sure she's meant for perfect after all.

.

He tells her he loves her a few months later.

They're walking back to her room one night, and he just breathes it out, letting it get swept away in the icy breeze.

She doesn't know what to say.

She knows that she loved Shane. She loved the unpredictability of his behavior and their sarcastic banter, the way their conversations were meant for only the two of them to understand.

She wanted to wake up every morning to the feel of him beside her, the smell of cigarettes, and the scratchiness of his sheets.

She cherished those small acts of affection that she knew he did only for her, the weight of them that spoke more volumes than flowers or chocolates ever could.

She thought she would never get over him.

But as she looks into Nate's eyes and marvels at the depth and sincerity she sees in them, she feels a stirring within her that she thought she had forgotten.

It's a slow flame, the strike of a match, the promise of a spark.

And she knows that she doesn't want to let him go.

It isn't love, not yet. But she knows as certainly as she does anything, that it will get there.

Maybe in another universe, she and Shane would have worked out. Maybe in another universe, he could have loved her. Maybe he would have tried.

But love, she realizes, isn't about getting what you want. It's about wanting what you get.

She _wanted_ dark eyes and a melodious voice, smiles that appeared on occasion and the sparks that came with his touch. She _wanted_ the mess that is Shane Gray and everything that comes with him.

But what she's got is_—_

"I love you, too."

.

'_Cause there's something between us, anyway_

_._

_I'm sorry if they seemed out of character to you, but like I said, they were based on real people. Thanks for reading! Reviews would be appreciated. _


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